


All the Roads, They Lead Me Here

by ardett



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Future, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Major Arc Spoilers, Post-Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Violence, general wizardry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: After the Grand Magic Games, Sting finds himself stuck somewhere he hasn't been in a long, long time. Alone.He wishes Sabertooth hadn't won.On the other side of Fiore, Fairy Tail stomachs its new name with pride.The Cowards' Guild.(There's a feeling that you can't shake that something is wrong, terribly, integrally wrong.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from The Last Time by Taylor Swift and Gary Lightbody, and will hopefully make sense at the end of this story.
> 
> I can't believe I don't have any Fairy Tail on Ao3 yet, so hopefully this is a good first addition.

“Rogue? Rogue, wait!” Sting’s voice is hoarse as he stumbles after the retreating figure, reaching, reaching, reaching for the other boy.

“No, Sting!” Rogue wrenches his wrist away and Sting watches him swipe furiously at his eyes. “I’m not doing this with you again!”

“Please, just-”

“No!” Sting flinches and Rogue looks away, tears sliding down his cheeks like blood gouged by claws. His words get heavier and heavier, crushing Sting beneath them. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”

And then he’s gone.

Sting falls to his knees, shaking, shaking, shaking.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry._

_The last time I saw him, he…_

_The last time I saw him, he left me alone._

Anguish rises in his throat and his scream rends the world apart.

 

“Sting? Sting!” Sting’s head lifts just barely even as he draws his knees closer to his chest, presses his back further into the wall, sucks his breath back into his airways. “What happened, Sting?”

Lector’s paws press against his arm earnestly, but the words that Sting needs to say are stuck in his lungs. What comes out is: “Are you going to leave me, Lector?”

“No... No, why would you think that? How could you think that?”

“I just-” Lector’s expression capsizes to panic as tears warp Sting’s voice. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately. I don’t want you to be another one of them.”

“I would never leave you, Sting. Don’t you know that?” He does, he knows, as Lector wriggles his way into Sting’s arms and Sting holds him close.

His heart still aches though.

 

“Master wants you.” Minerva smirks at Sting. He nods in answer but his mind is filled with static. He can’t hear Lector trying to reassure him.

His steps are stiff as he enters the main hall, the congregation of members parting before him like he walking to an execution. Perhaps he is.

He misses Lector’s warmth near his ankles, trailing behind him, but he doesn’t dare let Lector stay by his side through this.

He stands in front of Jiemma, hands clenched at his sides to make sure they don’t shake, breath pushed out of his lungs so he doesn’t speak. He makes sure his eyes are focused firmly on the ground.

The Master’s voice is an earthquake. “Where is he, Sting?”

His voice is a tremor. “I don’t know, Master.”

“You don’t know?” The ground shakes beneath him. “What do you think you’re worth to me alone, if you are no longer a Twin Dragon Slayer?”

“I’m still-”

“Do not speak.” His eyes snap back to the floor before they can betray him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want you to find Rogue and bring him back to Sabertooth.”

“Master, I don’t know where he is.”

Jiemma’s footsteps make the stones shudder as he moves closer, just outside Sting’s downcast field of view. “You’ll find him, Sting, because it’s your fault he left.”

“It’s not my fault.” Sting answers automatically, words slipping out of his mouth before he can frantically snatch at them.

“You think I don’t know what you’ve done, boy? The sin you’ve allowed to fester in you? Look at what your disobedience has gained you.”

Something flares in Sting.

“I never disobeyed you! I did what you told me to! This is your fault-” He doesn’t see it coming and the backhand throws him into a wall. His fists clench to keep the magic in but he dares to meet Jiemma’s gaze.

Blue eyes blaze with hate.

“I never told you to fall in love like some sort of petty whore.”

The growl in Sting’s throat grows into a yell. “You told me to tell him that I loved him! You told me to make him think that I loved him!”

“I told you to get stronger.” Jiemma looms over him, sneering with contempt. “But you let his sickness infect you. You disgust me.”

Sting holds the words in his lungs but they scream, _liar liar LIAR!_ They leak behind his jaw as he grits his teeth. His eyes widen though, as he sees Lector dodging between legs, coming towards him with panicked expression. “Lector, don’t-” He says, the sentence more movement of tongue and clicks of teeth than sound.

A foot kicks him hard in the side for his insolence but Lector doesn’t come any closer, cowering behind feet with open, afraid eyes. Sting’s barely caught his breath when Jiemma grabs him by his hair, ripping a cry from him as he’s brought to stand. “Apologize, boy.”

For a millisecond, he considers refusing. He hates to be weak before Lector, before anyone, and there’s a whole room of people already reveling in his punishment, watching for more. But no. Familiar compliance and self preservation overcome him. “I’m sorry for speaking back.”

His lungs clench painfully as Jiemma only tightens his grip. “What else, Sting? Why did I bring you here?”

“I’m sorry for tarnishing Sabertooth’s name and for causing any weakness in our guild.” The words taste bloody on his tongue.

“And?”

He doesn’t want to say it. Jiemma’s hands twist in his hair, like thorny vines snagging, ripping, tearing. He chokes. “I’m sorry for being sinful and unholy.”

Sting’s entire body sags when he’s released, shoulder blades sinking to the floor even as his palms scramble to catch him. He tries to hold his head high as he walks out of the room, Jiemma dismissing him without a second glance. He rounds three corners before his knuckles split themselves on the wall. Lector jumps as he slides to the ground.

“I hate him, Lector. I hate him!”

Lector hesitates. “Jiemma?” He whispers. He sounds scared and Sting doesn’t know why but he doesn’t care, not right now.

“Who else, Lector?” Sting hisses between teeth but he doesn’t want an answer.

“Then why don’t we leave?”

“Leave?” Incredulity twists Sting’s voice. “How could we- Where- What?” They can’t leave. The thought sears impossible in his mind. “Why would we leave?”

Lector stares at him and Sting stares back, matching expressions of disbelief. “Because you’re not happy here, you’ve never been happy!”

“But Sabertooth is our guild. It’s our home! Where else is there to go?” Unconsciously, he grips the place on his arm where his guild mark is.

“Rogue and Frosch-”

“They didn’t leave.” Sting cuts off Lector with eyes hard as diamond shards. “They’ll be back. We’re going to find them and bring them back.”

“But-”

“But what, Lector? We’re not leaving Sabertooth!” He snarls. He pushes himself off the ground and stalks towards their room. “And neither is anyone else!”

 

For the first time in years, Sting falls asleep without hearing Rogue’s breath echo through the room. His dreams are violent and vicious.

 

_He and Rogue are thrown apart, air like an explosion pushing them away from each other. Sting’s not sure if it’s their magic he can see crackling between them or just dots in his vision from draining, draining exhaustion. His magic, usually rearing and wild in his chest, feels feeble and straining. It’s being siphoned away from him and every time he touches Rogue, he dreads losing more._

_“Again.” Jiemma orders impassively and Sting’s body trembles at the sounds of his voice._

_He stumbles to his feet and meets Rogue in the center of the room. He watches Rogue’s chest move rapidly, hears Rogue’s labored breathing syncing up with his own. Their magic has yet to do the same._

_Sting gathers energy into one held out hand, blood going cold as it begins to blaze, draining away his warmth. Rogue summons a mass of darkness between his fingers and reaches for Sting. Sting’s heart jumps and for a startling moment, he’s afraid of Rogue. (He’s been shaking uncontrollably for the past hour and they’ve still kept going and now touching Rogue means weakness and pain.)_

_Hurt flashes across the other boy’s face, vivid as sin, and the connection between their magic snaps and ricochets. Darkness lances up Sting’s arm, sick and deadly, before it steals away his sight._

 

Sting turns over in his bed, jaw clenching, eyes flickering behind their lids, as Rogue disappears from the memory, leaving him alone with Jiemma.

 

_“You wanted to see me, Master?”_

_“Yes, Sting. Tell me, have you and Rogue mastered the unison raid yet?”_

_“No, Master.” Sting’s hands grip each other behind his back._

_“Perhaps you are not fit to call yourselves members of Sabertooth, if my Twin Dragons cannot complete such a simple task.” He doesn’t speak. Jiemma must know though, that the thought terrifies him. After all he did to get into the strongest guild, all the hours of training and failure and sweat and blood, to just be cast aside like some second-rate mage… “However, I’m willing to be merciful this time. And if you truly want to become stronger, you’ll do as I say.”_

_Sting blinks but the words fall automatically from his mouth. “Of course, master.”_

_“Tell Rogue you love him.”_

_Everything in him turns to ice. “What?” He fractures._

_“Convince him you’re in love with him. That is the divide that’s keeping your magic from merging.”_

_“I can’t.” His voice cracks. He cracks._

_“You will do this, Sting. If Rogue believes you return his feelings, your unison raid will be successful and you will be stronger.”_

_“Return his feelings?” No, Rogue doesn’t… Jiemma laughs and he knows it’s true. “I can’t do this to him. Please-”_

 

“I can’t-” Sting gasps into the room as he awakes. In the night, Lector must have crawled between his arms and Sting holds him a little closer. Tears catch in the corners of his eyes because in the end, it didn’t matter.

He did exactly as he was told.

 

“Come on, Lector, out of bed!” Sting shouts from the bathroom. “We’re going!”

Drowsily, Lector answers, “Going where?”

“We’re going to find Rogue and Frosch. First, we search the city and then we spread out to other towns from there.”

“We’re going right now?”

“Yes, Lector, right now.” Sting peers around the door frame and motions with his hands. “Get up!”

 

It starts off easy. Sting is determined and Lector supports him. At least they’re together, through town after town, storm after storm, disappointment after disappointment.

But as days turn to weeks turn to _months,_ something in Sting starts to wear out. He’s more distant, he smiles less, and his magic has moments when it’s out of control.

One lead they’d been following for a week turns into another dead end and at their campsite in the woods, Sting finally lets hopelessness swallow him.

 

Lector scrambles away from him as he screams at the sky. Magic beams up to the clouds, the stars, the moon, and sends out shockwaves that rock the trees around them. The power rushes out of Sting in heaving tidal waves until there’s nothing left to take.

He collapses as night falls back around them.

“It’s my fault, Lector. Everything, it’s all my fault.” He murmurs. “I forced him to do this. I couldn’t stop him from leaving and I can’t find him or bring him back, Lector-”

“What happened to your magic?” Sting lifts his head, eyes focusing on Lector. Between blurs, he sees fear. Lector whispers tearfully, “Sting?”

He tries to think back, remember the onslaught from moments ago. Lector’s terror starts to suffuse into his bloodstream, making his words fast, clipped, scared. “What about my magic? It’s the same as it always is.” _Isn’t it?_

“No, it wasn’t white, it was turning black, in the middle, it was black, _Sting_ -” Lector pleads desperately.

“What are you talking about, Lector?” Sting squeeze his eyes shut, shaking his head, anything to block out the slander. “It’s been that way ever since my first unison raid with Rogue, why-”

“No, Sting! No it hasn’t!” Lector cries loudly, stealing away all other sound.

Sting’s hand slowly clenches over his heart. Lost, he asks to the void softly, “It hasn’t?”

Tears disappear in Lector’s fur as he looks at the ground, then to Sting, confused and afraid. “No. Never.”

“But I can still feel it.” Sting whispers.

Lector’s voice catches. “What?”

“Rogue’s magic, the darkness. It’s still there.”

“Where?”

“In my heart.”

And it is, it has been ever since their first unison raid, when Rogue’s magic had flooded into him, through fingertips and veins and lungs and arteries, all the way to his heart, and never left.

 

_Jiemma leaves Sting and Rogue alone this time but Sting feels his gaze all the same. He will know if Sting fails._

_They step towards each other, meet eyes, and nod. The air stills as shadows gather in Rogue’s hand and white power pounds in Sting’s palm. With awareness, Sting keeps their magic apart but he leans towards Rogue. He’s glad Rogue can’t see his face._

_Swallowing dryly, his voice barely carries next to Rogue’s ear. “Rogue, I…” He closes his eyes, his words twisting his features like pain. “I love you.”_

_Rogue goes rigid, trying to turn to see Sting’s expression, but Sting grabs Rogue’s hand, keeps them shoulder to shoulder with faces besides one another, not in front of one another. Their fingers slip together and light and shadow shift into void beneath their palms._

_And that void turns to power, bright as promise held between them._

_Sting gasps as it rushes through him like nothing he’s ever known before. It’s a supernova, overwhelming and brilliant and terrifying. All encompassing. It screams to destroy the world and save it._

_Without words, Sting and Rogue both release it into the sky._

_Energy, immense and powerful, disappears above them until there’s nothing left for either of them to give, Then, finally, they unlock hands, both breathing heavily as victory swallows their exhaustion._

_Even with the unison raid completed, Sting still feels latent magic racing through him, spiking in his heart over and over again._

 

It feels as though it’s risen to the surface now, staining his white magic black as sin.

 

“Have you heard of a mage named Rogue coming to stay in this town? He’d be a wizard with black hair and red eyes.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t get many of your magic types here.” The shopkeeper answers, eyeing Sting’s guild mark. “No guilds here, you see. Perhaps try Magnolia, they’re got a guild or two.”

“Thank you very much. We’ve got a few more places we’re checking out before that.” Sting replies before adding with a sigh, “But I’m sure we’ll get there eventually. Come on, Lector.”

When there’s no response, Sting turns to look for his companion, eyes landing on a dozing bundle in the corner. His gaze softens, guilt and disappointment tugging at the corners of his mouth. Lector hasn’t uttered a word of dissent but he’s unhappy, Sting knows. Sting misses Lector’s voice, his enthusiasm, his grin. What is he hoping to accomplish?

Part of him knows that if Rogue doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. This meaningless search of towns will yield nothing. Desperately, he has wanted to believe that when Rogue left, he hadn’t intended it to be forever. That Rogue hadn’t abandoned him forever. Maybe his sin really was so unforgivable.

And still, he’s dragged Lector down with him, looking for someone as insubstantial as a shadow. It’s his fault, again, it’s his fault.

Sting gathers Lector’s small body in his arms and whispers to the rousing bundle, “Come on, Lector. Let’s go home.”

“But what about Magnolia?” a drowsy voice asks, even as Lector snuggles farther into Sting’s chest. Sting allows himself one moment to close his eyes and swallow his sadness.

“Rogue and Frosch will come back when they need to. For now, we have to be strong without them.”

 

As soon as they return to Sabertooth, long days of trains covering the passage of months, Jiemma calls for Sting. Sting whispers Lector to complacency before he alone goes back to that fated room, where all the strings tie back to. The door closes behind him and he is alone, alone, alone.

“Where is Rogue?” Jiemma says, voice like hurricane, voice like thunder.

“I couldn’t find him. He didn’t want me to.” Sting’s eyes close, hair dancing in front of them. Magic spikes between his fingers, black and white and black and white.

Jiemma stands, eyes burning, boring, branding. “Boy-”

Sting explodes. “I can’t bring him back!” He yells. For a second, the words hang like swinging nooses in the air. Then, he collapses, holy magic and shadow magic sucked back into him before they harm anything. Quieter, “I can’t bring him back.”

“Then you are weak.” Sting lets himself be dragged close to the guild master, Jiemma’s hand twisting in his shirt. “And you are useless to me, Twin Dragon Slayer.”

A blast knocks Sting back, scalding in his stomach, spine skidding across the floor, even as he growls back, “I am not useless.”

“No?” When Sting draws his gaze back up, he sees Jiemma lounging on his throne, grin like a slice across his face. “Then you will complete every job meant for the Twin Dragon Slayers and you will do it alone. I won’t waste members on your misfit quests. And if you find you can’t do it, I’ll have you removed from the guild. That, or you’ll die, of course.”

All that’s left for Sting is to utter, “Yes, Master.”

 

Thoughts roil in his hands as he reaches the training room, not bothering to return to Lector.

He can’t do it, he knows he can’t; these jobs are meant for him and Rogue together. He’s not strong enough, he won’t ever be strong enough, but he can’t leave. Why can’t he bring himself to leave this… this… _guild, home, refuge?_

His magic is out of control, off aim, hitting walls and shattering mirrors and _why is it still black when Rogue is gone?_ ROGUE IS GONE!

Sting stares at his arm, sliced on the underside from the wrist to elbow by holy white magic.

Blood wells, uncontrollable, unstoppable, everywhere, everywhere, _everywhere,_ but he has to get it out of himself, has to make himself holy again, has to stop feeling whatever he thought he was feeling, has to get Rogue and this sin out of him.

Red spills from a deep cut on his other arm and he wants to keep going, wants to keep scoring slashes into his own flesh, but oh god, _there’s so much blood_ and he’s on his knees and it’s in his clothes and under his fingernails and slippery on his skin and the floor and the blood is everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.

And through all that red, he sees Lector. And he is screaming. And he is coming towards Sting and-

“NO!” Sting scrambles backwards, slipping against his own blood, babbling, “You can’t come near me, Lector, I’ll stain you, I’ll taint you, and you’ll leave like Rogue and I’ll be alone because of my sin-” He can’t stop the confession from falling from his lips. _My sin, my sin, my sin._

 

_His sin for falling in love. Truly, this time, not pretending, not lying. After so long of pretending a lie was the truth, it became the truth and that was the worst sin of all._

_Sting had become so used to saying, “I love you,” to Rogue that he whispered it like a prayer before every match they had in the Grand Magic Games. It’s occurred to him that their unison raids came so easy now, he could probably remain silent. But he doesn’t._

_On the day their last opponent falls before them, their hands still linked, on the day Sabertooth wins the Grand Magic Games for the eighth time, Sting doesn’t hide the words in a whispered secret. He screams them into Rogue’s mouth as he kisses him._

_Every sense in him is heightened and elation dazzles through every vein, so much so that he doesn’t care about Fairy Tail or Jiemma or lies. All he cares about is that they’ve won. They won and Sting is drunk on the victory and he’s in love and he wants Rogue to revel in this with him before it’s all over. (All over?)_

_Rogue kisses him back for one fleeting, blissful moment, pulls back, and… and then Sting is surrounded by other people clapping, cheering, screaming, and Rogue is gone. In the tumult, Sting doesn’t notice that he didn’t just lose Rogue in the crowd. He’s not here at all._

_Even though Sabertooth has never lost, Jiemma still allows them this one night of freedom to celebrate. And celebrate they do. It’s morning when Sting stumbles back into their room, still smiling with a little drunken tilt to his teeth, victory cries and laughter stuck in his throat._

_Rogue sits on his bed, red eyes on Sting with the kind of despair that says they’ve lost, but they’ve won, so why does Rogue look at him like that? “Sting…” Sting’s smile falters at the plea. “You kissed me, why did you kiss me?”_

_Sting blinks, trying to bring Rogue’s figure into focus, his words into focus, but blue eyes are still blurry with alcohol, and clarity… clarity… “Because I love you. I- I’m in love with you.” slips._

_The feeling burbles in Sting’s chest like desperation, an ache of love that just wants to be real. But even as he yearns for Rogue’s touch, Rogue stands up, pulling away, arms wrapped around himself, muscles tense._

_He faces Sting with tormented expression. “But you’re not! I’m the one in love with you! And I know, I know you’ve been doing this because you have to, but I just don’t know why I believed you when I knew it wasn’t true! I just wanted it_ so _badly-” Rogue closes his eyes, face like despair. “But why are you still doing this to me, Sting? It’s over, we’re stronger, we won, okay? You don’t have to keep_ pretending _-”_

_“Rogue, I’m not-” Again Sting reaches, hands seeking comfort, but Rogue recoils violently._

_“Stop lying! You can’t just kiss me and tell me you love me over and over when it means_ nothing _to you. Sting, I- I just- I can’t, I’m sorry._ No more. _”_

 _Things are already in Rogue’s hands, Sting realizes. He’ll leave,_ he’ll be gone, _oh no, oh please-_

_“Rogue? Rogue, wait!” Sting’s voice is hoarse as he stumbles after the retreating figure, reaching, reaching, reaching for the other boy._

_“No, Sting!” Rogue wrenches his wrist away and Sting watches him furiously swipe at his eyes. “I’m not doing this with you again!”_

_“Please, just-”_

_“No!” Sting flinches and Rogue looks away, tears sliding down his cheeks. His words get heavier and heavier, crushing Sting beneath them. “I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m done.”_

_And then he’s gone._

_Sting falls to his knees, shaking, shaking, shaking._

_Anguish rises in his throat and his scream rends the world apart._

_“DON”T LEAVE ME!”_

 

The job flyer wrinkles in Sting’s hands. It had been plastered on his door when he woke up, without a chance for refusal. He swallows thickly as he scans the words scrawled under his fist.

An S-class job. One he has to take alone. Well, perhaps not entirely alone, with his two constant companions. Lector and the shadows slinking under his skin, the last remnant of Rogue.

Still, the prospect daunts him, scares him from flesh to bone. What if the monster, drawn in shaky pencil and graphite smeared by fingers, what if it kills him? Or worse, what if he fails and has to return to Sabertooth defeated? Jiemma will tear him to pieces before any monster. More painfully than any monster.

He wakes Lector and packs a bag with firm hands and trembling breath.

When he arrives at the client's door, it’s his voice that’s firm and his hands that tremble. He clasps them tightly behind his back as he listens to the job description.

The villager’s words ring in his head as he lays on a bed of the town’s small inn. _“It was a dragon! Green as the trees, the scales were! Impossible to get past; no weapon or magic leaves a mark! Hugest thing I’ve ever seen, bigger than the mountains!”_

It can’t be a dragon. If it had, this place would have been decimated, but all the evidence left by the creature is strips of charred stumps, not leveled buildings. To pretend to be a dragon, though? The monster must be fearsome indeed.

Sting spends nearly the whole next day tracking it. Following splintered wood and the smell of burning leaves, he treks through the wilderness until he comes to the edge of a valley. Here, the ground is barren, himself standing on the boundary of forest foliage and unforgiving dirt that dips downwards under his feet. Lector swoops down from his overhead lookout, face contorted.

“Did you see it, Lector?”

Lector’s gaze flickers to the compacted soil, claws scratching patterns there. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Sting. I… Maybe we should just go home.”

“Come on, Lector, you know we can’t do that.” Sting begins walking into the valley, scanning for the beast. “We can’t go back until we complete this job.”

“But it’s not like we need the money! Someone else can-”

“Lector, we’re already here and we accepted the job, okay?” Sting breathes deeply as the wind blows their way. “Just because Rogue-” _left._ “Just because it’s me and you now, doesn’t mean we can slack off. We have a responsibility to take jobs and bring jewel back to the guild. We’re not going to hurt Sabertooth’s reputation.”

There are these little huffing, sniffling gasps coming from behind him but he doesn’t turn around until he hears a watery, drowning, _“Sting…”_

He blinks out of his own mind. ( _Can’t let them down, he left, my fault, fill the gap, replace him, my fault_ ) and looks back at Lector.

Then he’s on his knees, hands almost reaching but not quite as the tiny creature before him breaks down. “Oh no, Lector, don’t cry. Please-” Sting pleads softly, fingers skimming over red fur in panic.

“No, you’re gonna get hurt! Your magic is still dark and Rogue’s not here and the dragon’s really big and scary and I can’t help you if something happens and- and-” Lector blubbers, burbles, flounders, paws matting the teary fur around his eyes. “His magic is- Your magic is hurting you! Sting-” Lector cries, sobs catching in his lungs real and thick and raw, even as Sting hugs him fiercely to his chest. “I don’t want Rogue and Frosch to be gone. Why did they leave us?”

The scabs on Sting’s arms go taunt and crack as he tightens his grip, feeling the exceed shake. “It’s-” _my fault._

“Why won’t they come back?”

The words lodge between his vocal cords. He says, “I don’t know.”

Sting closes his eyes, lets those words sit heavy on his heart, collecting there with Lector’s breaths. The exceed’s fur brushes softly against his wounds and Sting feels the loss deeply in that one striking moment. The guilt and regret and something else, something growing tiny, prickling thorns in his veins.

Resentment.

 

The fruitless day drags on Sting’s mind even as he tries to fall asleep with Lector curled into his side.

He’s been hurting Lector. Scaring him.

If Rogue truly can’t forgive Sting, even if Sting deserves to be left alone, Lector should not have to suffer like this. Suffer without any of his own kind to walk besides him, suffer through Sting’s untamed magic, and his bloody coping like trial and error on his own skin. And now it’s not just him but Lector whose in more danger on these solo missions. Sting will barely be able to fend for himself; he won’t always be there to protect Lector. It may mean Sting must push away his last solace but that might break him entirely. (Maybe that was the intended effect, him alone, always alone.)

Sting circles back to Lector’s tear matted fur.

Why won’t they come back? _Why won’t they come back?_

 

“Anything?” Sting calls up to Lector, glimpsing red through the treetops.

Any reply, any other noise at all, is drowned out by a deafening _ROAR!_ Carnal and violent, it shakes the trees, the ground, the very sky.

Lector comes tumbling from the clouds, a trembling ball of terror.

“Sting-” He gasps, but Sting is already running towards the sound.

“Stay back, Lector!” His hands ignite with white magic. “We’ve got our dragon!”

Trees suddenly give way to burning debris and there, in all it’s might and glory, is the monster.

It’s massivity is undeniable. Besides it, Sting is a speck. Rows and rows of shining green scales reflect the blinding sun. It’s hard to look at, but Sting is sure of one thing.

This is no dragon.

It may have teeth like spires, spikes like daggers, claws like scythes, and eyes like live wires but it has no wings. It has no human voice. And it’s eyes, those eyes like power, they have no soul.

As those eyes look at him, Sting leaps into action. His muscles act on instinct and his bones remember everything. All he has to do is fight. _All he has to do is win._

The beast roars fire and lightning and Sting’s responding blasts collide with them in dazzling fireworks. Any magic that reaches the hide bounces off, making Sting grit his teeth as he dodges his own attacks. The white magic won’t harm him but he already knows Rogue’s shadows, still mixed inseparably with his own magic, will hurt him again.

His mind goes blank as he lets his body fight, attack, defend, balance on the monster’s spine as he races to the head for the killing blow. All his remaining magic condenses in his awaiting palm as he reaches out for a unison raid.

_But there’s no one there._

His mind short circuits and his magic goes wild, spearing through his lungs, his heart, his head, and he’s falling, giant claws batting him down from the heavens.

Bones crack and the world blurs when he hits the Earth. A shadow looms over him, blotting out the sun until the only light comes from its gaping, open maw. Heat washes over him as someone screams high and ear shattering. _“STING!”_

Then, impossibly, the fire and lightning part. They rush around Sting, repeating the roar they came from. Like the red sea, except this time, it’s the red sea that parts an ocean of sound.

Standing in front of him, armor shining, sword tanish burned, a woman with long red hair holds her ground. As he watches, red and orange clothing glow bright and _change_ into black plated chainmail. The woman leaps into the air, blade a blur.

The beast screams under her onslaught, falters, and then falls. The ground quakes as its green scaled body slams into the dirt, and with one last heaving breath, it lies still.

Sting stares wide eyed. The battle is already over, in a matter of seconds. He watches as the woman comes back to Earth, shining once again until she wears a simple armor breastplate and blue skirt.

The power she must have…

It’s staggering.

He’s still on the ground, all aching limbs and bruises, when she begins to approach him. The drain on his magic keeps him there, not trusting his weak muscles to hold him.

“Are you alright?” He takes her offered hand, nodding weakly.

His legs shake a bit but the ground holds steady beneath him. He moves to say something, anything, when a ball of fur collides with him, throwing him off balance again.

“Sting, Sting-” Lector sobs his name into his arms.

Sting clutches him close, whispering, “I’m alright, I’m okay, we’re all okay.”

“Don’t leave me!” Lector wails.

Sting hides his own tears in Lector’s fur. “I won’t leave you, I promise. Never, Lector.”

“I don’t want to be alone…”

“I know, I know, I’m not leaving.” He rubs the exceed’s ear between his fingers until he calms down, only tiny noises coming from him now.

Finally, he addresses the woman, still standing a few feet away with red hair whipping in the wind.

“Thank you. I don’t what would have happened if you hadn’t showed up when you did.”

She gives him a stern nod in return. “Of course. I couldn’t call myself a wizard if I didn’t, though I do apologize for completing the job for you. I wasn’t going to intervene until I saw that you truly needed assistance. The reward money is still yours. You were the one who accepted the job.”

Sting’s expression softens with relief. He won’t return empty handed to Jiemma this time. “You don’t know what this means to us. Thank you.”

She looks as if she’s going to leave when she pauses, turning back to face him. “If I may… Can I ask what happened during your battle?  It almost appeared as if you were attempting a unison raid. Alone.”

“I-” His teeth catch on his lip but he supposes he owes an explanation in return for his life, so he continues, “I used to have a partner, another wizard.” The words fall slowly, carefully, into place. “But I made a mistake and he left. My guild master still wants our jobs completed but this is the first one we’ve taken alone.” He hoists Lector a little higher on his shoulder. “I guess I just expected him to be there. It’s my fault, really.”

“He left you after one mistake.” She cocks her head, eyes a little wider than before.

“It was a big mistake.” Sting murmurs through tongue and teeth.

“A comrade should never abandon their friends, not for one mistake or many. To put a friend in danger, to abandon them in their time of need, it defies the meaning of a guild. It’s not you who should be ashamed, but them.” In a moment of perceptiveness, she says, “In love, nothing is unforgivable.”

Sting’s throat starts to throb, like it does when he’s about to cry, but he keeps himself in check. “What if it’s the love that has to be forgiven?”

“If it has to be forgiven,” Her stance changes, stronger, firmer. “Than they don’t deserve it.”

He stares at her, dangerous red hair, heart protected by armor, but has no response. Lector digs claws into his shirt, just enough to scratch skin.

The woman glances at the sky, squinting barely. “The day grows older. I believe our paths must diverge.”

She’s walking away when Sting calls out, “Wait!” His eyebrows furrow as she looks expectantly at him. “Have… Have we met before?”

“Not personally, no. Though you may have seen me at the Grand Magic Games.”

“What guild?” Familiarity has been nagging at him, but eludes him as well. How could he forget such a powerful presence?

She taps knowingly at her arm, hair brushed aside to reveal a blue tattoo. “Fairy Tail.”

“The Resurrected Guild…” Sting whispers just as Lector says, “ _The Cowards' Guild._ ”

Sting’s blood runs cold with realization. The red hair, the armor, how could he have not known this was-

“Erza Scarlet. And call Fairy Tail what you will. We won’t be defeated again.” As she leaves, he hears faintly over her shoulder, “Until next time. I’m sure we’ll meet again, Sting of Sabertooth.”

And then she’s gone.

Sting is left reeling in her wake. A member of Fairy Tail, _Erza Scarlet,_ had saved him. She asked nothing in return but having a debt like that hanging over his head? Jiemma would surely call him disgraceful. What immense power, though. What would have happened at the Grand Magic Games had Fairy Tail not dropped out? Would he still have Rogue if Sabertooth had never won?

Then, he focuses in on what she said. Guilds, comradery, love. Forgiveness. Even as he repeats to himself that he doesn’t deserve it, he can’t quite shake himself of the idea.

Forgiveness.

 

The jobs distract Sting, at the very least. None has been quite so taxing as his first, but slowly, steadily, he grows stronger. He stops thinking of the odd black tinge in his magic as Rogue’s and starts thinking of it as his. It grows familiar but it doesn’t obey him. Listen to him, perhaps, but sometimes it seems to control him. Especially when he reaches out for a unison raid.

It will grow in his chest and if he tries to stop it, it’s frenzy will leave his skin covered in new slashes. So he doesn’t.

(Oh, and the strength it gives him.)

And with this power mounting to new heights, so do his emotions heighten.

He doesn’t suppress the darkness anymore and it pollutes his mind. It fixates on the resentment Sting had so long ignored, the wrenching betrayal of being left behind, of being abandoned to cruelty alone. There’s an anger constantly murmuring in the undertone of Sting’s mind and it whispers words of blame. (It whispers, _Rogue._ )

The only bright spot is Lector, pure as Sting’s white magic. A feeble spark against the shadows but a light nonetheless. When Sting sees him, his heart softens, his fists relax, his lungs can breathe. He can smile something that isn’t vicious and malicious. He feels like the old Twin Dragon Slayer of Sabertooth, white and shining.

Then Lector will become sad, droplets caught in the fur around his eyes as he whispers how he misses Rogue and Frosch. And Sting’s heart will grow hard again and his blood will run black with hatred.

Even as months wear into a year, the hurt doesn’t leave, nor does the hate.

Sting though, is stronger than anyone could have imagined. Strong enough to destroy the world, if he wanted. (And sometimes he does.) Dangerous as not one dragon, but two.

Job after job dissolves beneath his magic as he leaves sacks of jewel for Jiemma. Even as he loses track of the world still turning under his feet, devoured by his own mind, the world begins to know him anew. And it gives him a new name.

_The Dragon of Yin and Yang._

 

Notoriety earns Sting a myriad of requests. One in particular catches his eye. He pulls it from a stack of flyers, turning to Lector as he read aloud.

“Looking for magical assistance in Magnolia. Reward to be negotiated. To apply, contact Makarov at the below address.” Sting taps his finger on the paper, looking at Lector. “Magnolia, isn’t that where Fairy Tail is?”

Lector nods in affirmation. “And Erza Scarlet! If we do it, maybe we can visit her.”

“Alright.” Sting hesitantly agrees. “Though the job’s not very clear. Hopefully it will be worth it.”

“Come on, Sting. You don’t even need the jewel! I’ve never been to Magnolia and besides, you used to really like Fairy Tail before. Especially Natsu-”

“Lector,” Sting cuts in, a hint of smile curling his lips. “I’ve already agreed. And that was a long time ago. I’m not really that worried about surpassing Natsu anymore, I guess.” Magic flickers between his fingers, darting up along the tracks of his scars. Lector’s eyes follow it.

“I guess you don’t need to be,” Lector grins teasingly at Sting. “Dragon of Yin and Yang.”

Sting ruffles his fur playfully, earning a faint purr, before going to pack his bags.

 

Magnolia hums with life when they arrive. The buildings blare with color, music floats through the air, and feet tap rhythms on every street. There’s a subtle calling of magic throughout the whole town, not extravagant like in the capital but gentle and confident. It sings in Sting’s bones, wanting peace, but his own blood, black and white and red, chants for war.

Sting makes an executive decision to find Makarov before paying a visit to Fairy Tail and he scans addresses as Lector periodically lets out exclamations of awe at his side. However, as the heart of the city comes into view, Sting realizes where they’re being led.

“Why would a wizard of Fairy Tail need magical assistance?” He mutters, crumpling the job flyer back into his pocket.

“Maybe they needed a really strong wizard.”

“They have plenty of strong wizards. Besides,” Sting glances at Lector, whose attention has already diverted to a stand of glittering magic wares. “I think they have too much pride for that.”

Fairy Tail’s guild hall, while it should be imposing in towering stone, has an air of welcome about it. A banner flutters in the wind with the guild mark shining in white, just under a golden bell tower. Through the main door, Sting can see members smiling, laughing, raising a glass to each other.

As he walks through the ornate gate, Sting sees a familiar figure, whose red hair flows like rubies down her back.

“Erza!” She turns at the sounds of his call. Her eyes are wide but pleasantly surprised as she grins, coming over.

“Sting? How long has it been? Almost a year?” She hits him jovially on the back and the impact makes him stumble a few feet, but he smiles too. “I hear you’ve grown quite strong since we first met, Dragon of Yin and Yang.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Titania.”

He falls into step besides her as she shakes her head. “Well, people will talk. Can’t believe everything you hear.”

“I think I’ve seen it firsthand.” He continues the conversation while making sure Lector doesn’t wander too far from his side.

“You know what they say.” Erza replies. “Believe half of what you see…”

“And none of what you hear.” Sting finishes.

“I’m sure you didn’t come all the way to Magnolia just to catch up.” She reasons as they walk through the wooden doors. The noise level raises a couple of notches in the enclosed space. “What are you in town for?”

“I actually got a job request for a Makarov, address here.”

“Makarov?” Erza’s expression turns amused. “Yes, you could say I know him.” She gestures to him to follow, leading him towards the bar. “Master!” She calls out as they approach, waving to a small white haired man seated on the counter.

He looks up, eyes scanning Sting before focusing on his guild mark, the sign of Sabertooth emblazoned on his arm. “A member of Sabertooth? Any chance you’re here to complete my job request?”

Sting hesitates as Erza pushes him forward, plastering a last minute smile across his face. “Yes, sir. You’re Makarov?”

“Master of Fairy Tail, that’s right, young man.”

Erza’s hiding a laugh behind her hand and Lector’s flying somewhere in the rafters overhead, so Sting flounders a little, left to fend for himself. “Of course. And what did you need?” For good measure, he tacks on a, “Sir.”

“Alright.” The master of Fairy Tail leans closer, tilting dangerously, and Sting realizes the man is undoubtedly drunk. It reminds him of Jiemma and his smile starts to hurt. “All you need to do is tell me something.”

Sting tenses, weight set back in his heels. “Yes?”

“How can Fairy Tail beat Sabertooth in the next Grand Magic Games?”

Sting is stunned into silence, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. He hears Erza burst into laughter along with another white haired girl behind the counter.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

“I really can’t-”

Sting short circuits. His nerves fire desperately but his mind is frozen on the scent that the breeze carried in. He whips towards the door, ignoring the voices of concern saying his name.

And through that door, talking casually like nothing is amiss, like the world still spins, is _Rogue._

“Rogue…” His name strangles Sting but the look of astonishment Rogue gives him cracks something vital in him.

“Sting?” He whispers, eyes wide and shining like deep blood. “Sting, what-”

“You’ve been here the whole time?” Sting’s voice drops to a fatally low volume.

“I-”

“Why did you leave?” Rogue’s face drops.

“Sting, I… I couldn’t stay. You know why-” He stops. His voice strains desperately. “I’m sorry, Sting.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?” They’re closer now and Sting can see Rogue falling apart.

“I just… Everything hurt so much less, I couldn’t… Sting, I loved you-”

“And I would have loved you back, Rogue, and you just left me!”

Sting’s vision flashes black and white, months of hate and rage trying to claw their way out of his body.

“Sting-” Rogue’s gaze is locked on Sting’s hands and Sting can see them flickering with magic in the corner of his eye.

“You knew I could never leave Sabertooth and you just abandoned me,” Rogue is backing away now but Sting doesn’t care. Power is surging through his veins, angry, so angry. “And I blamed myself for months, but it was you who left me alone to face Jiemma and the rest of the guild, and to take your place because you weren’t coming back!”

Every piece of pain, every lost bit of blood and pride and dignity and hope and love screams at him to take something back in return.

And he wants it to be Rogue’s life.

The first blast makes Rogue stumble back as he blocks clumsily, face cast in disbelief. His parries become more and more hasty as Sting lights up both of his palms. Darts of light and shadow ricochet around the room. Other members of Fairy Tail leap to their feet, energy crackling between them.

“Sting, stop!” An armored fist grabs his wrist and Sting rounds on Erza with a feral growl, using both of his hands to hit her in the chest. The force sends her skidding across the floor, but Sting has already turned back to Rogue.

There’s a horror on Rogue’s face as Sting summons a storm of light and dark. “What happened to your magic?”

Sting doesn’t answer and his magic swarms around Rogue, drowning out his cries. When it disperses, Rogue is on the ground, cuts littering his body, and Sting stands over him. A blade of pure energy, white and shadows, shadows and white, is clenched in Sting’s hand and terror shakes in Rogue’s red eyes as he stares up.

“No!” Someone shouts as Lector screams, _“Sting!”_

There’s a horrible slicing sound, the thud of a body, and Sting jerks up to see Lector fall from the sky. Out of his heart sticks a jagged, bloody spear of ice.

“LECTOR!” Sting cries out his name but too late, too late, because the only answer is dead eyes staring back at him and red fur soaked with blood.

The last part of Sting breaks and he is gone.

He turns on the boy who killed Lector, who trembles and can’t look away from the dead body, hands still frosting with ice magic. Sting slits his throat.

His blood is cold on Sting’s fingers and a million voices create a chaos of sound, shouting for the dead, and a million minds reach for magic, for revenge, but Sting’s own screams are the loudest.

His roar, primal and vengeful, will end the world.

 

(Someone screams with a never ending screech, piercing, shattering, and feminine.)

 

As Gray’s body falls to the floor, you scream with the voices of a thousand futures that aren’t yours. Around you, the guild goes to war but no, _no,_ it will all be in vain.

You have seen it before.

“Lucy! Lucy, are you alright?” Natsu shakes your shoulder violently. You grab his hand. It’s already hot with magic.

“Natsu, we have to get to the Eclipse Gate! We have to go now!”

“What? We can’t! We have to fight, they’re getting slaughtered, Lucy!” He tries to tug away from you but you clutch his fingers tighter.

“No, Natsu, you don’t understand! Sting is Future Rogue! He’s Acnologia!”

Natsu finally meets your eyes, confused green searching desperately in your browns. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s the death of this future, Natsu, don’t you see?” You rush out breaths and words as you watch Fairy Tail crumble before the force of two dragons. “During the Grand Magic Games, Acnologia arrived and decimated our world. In that future, Rogue killed Sting to become more powerful and Future Rogue used the Eclipse Gate to come back in time. Then, he used the gate to unleash four thousand dragons. They destroy the capital and the rest of the world. From that time, Future Lucy returned to warn us and-”

“We dropped out of the Grand Magic Games to keep the gate closed.”

You nod. The pain is evident in your voice as you say, “And this is the future we’ve been led to. It’s already too late. We have to get to the Eclipse Gate and go back.” You steel yourself as Natsu’s expression twists as he looks back at the fight.

“He killed Gray.”

“No one can stop him now. He’ll tear the world apart. Natsu-”

“But our friends-”

“We’ll save them all. We’ll find the right one, but _we have to go._ ”

Tears drip down his face into his scarf but he takes your hand. Together, you run out the door, leaving behind a future’s death. You only look back once to see Sting cut a hole through Rogue’s chest. You glimpse shadows slide through him, turning streaks of hair black and his veins midnight. White glows in his eyes and at the tips of his fingers. Somehow, his eyes slide to yours in the maelstrom. They are utterly empty.

You don’t turn around again.

There’s a future where you all live and you will find it.

This is not your future. This is not the end.

  
_Let’s continue our adventure!_

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I watched the Grand Magic Games, so if I get some of my facts wrong, please, please correct me! As I was hashing out the real plot towards end, I was kind of grasping at straws, trying to remember so... Yes, please help.  
> If something is confusing, don't hesitate to ask, because I know some of the plot of quite convoluted.


End file.
